Lift… I’ve heard that expression recently. But where? “No.” Shit, do I need a ride? I have to give it some thought. Come to think of it, the captain dropped me off this morning, telling me to give him a call when this was done. I shake my head. I can call a cab or walk as soon as I wrap my head around where the fuck I am.
Yeah, I’m tired.
* * *
I endup on the bus. I have enough wherewithal to ask the driver to help me get to my side of town. Since I’m still in my uniform, he agrees with the obligatory “thank you for your service.” I bet he gets tired of saying that shit. There are soldiers all over this town.
It takes over an hour with all the stops and shit, but as soon as I’m home, I shower and then sit on my couch in only my underwear. I’ve got no energy to put anything else on. Besides, it’s hot. I cranked up my A/C as soon as I walked in the door, but it’s taking a while to get the temp down.
A beer sounds good, but part of me is afraid I’ll fall asleep too early. I checked the time when I walked in the door; it was six thirty. I need to stay awake for a few more hours so I’m not all out of whack.
Except, if I sit here, all I’ll do is think. Think about what-ifs. What if I had gone in with him? What if I’d acted faster? Should I have gone in the door like a bat out of hell instead of playing it by the book? I saw them struggling. I didn’t see the gun. That’s one thing. If I had, I would have executed plan B—shoot that fucker first, ask forgiveness later.
I look around my apartment. “God, I hate this place.” It’s depressing as fuck. I’m not the only one who thinks so. Just ask Ben. He’s been over a time or two to watch a game, and he hasn’t held back.“Jesus, man. This is the saddest excuse for a home I’ve ever seen. Can there be more fucking brown? Is that paneling?”
I want to laugh at the memory, but I’m not in the mood. Instead, I scan my place again. Brown paneling, cupboards, doors, trim, and carpeting. At least the walls are white-ish. Yeah, it’s pretty fucking brown. Except I spy something blue. I grabbed the mail on my way in but didn’t look at it. Peeking out from the stack is an envelope I’ve started to look forward to.
I roll off the couch and wince. I fucked up my back last night. Doing what? I’m not sure. Adrenaline sort of keeps pain away during situations like that, but now that I’ve had time to decompress, it rears its ugly head. Ignoring it, I reach for the mail. I quickly discard the bills and junk and pull out the blue envelope.
It’s not as thick as usual. I frown at that thought. Gingerly, I sit back on the sofa—the brown sofa—and carefully tear the end off the envelope. Grasping the letter, I pull it out. The first thing I notice is the date. Yesterday. Damn, mail moves fast sometimes.
October 5th
Dear Alec,
As requested, I did some sleuthing and found out what’s going on with Vicky and Anthony. I feel a little disloyal spilling the beans, but my uncle told me, and since you’re related to one of the two involved, it’s only fair you should know. All I ask is you don’t give me away. I can’t take the wrath of Vicky right now. Besides, he didn’t tell me not to blab, so I’m blabbing.
Vicky’s upset about Anthony sleeping with Chrissie a million years ago. He claims he doesn’t remember sleeping with her because he was drunk, yada yada yada, but she’s not buying it.
She was/is so angry, she went on the honeymoon alone. My uncle spent ten grand on that trip, and she went alone.
First off, ten grand? It’s crazy to spend that much on a trip. I could buy three dogs for that or put a down payment on a house or buy a decent car. Hell, for that kind of scratch, I could quit my job and devote my time to training dogs full-time. God, wouldn’t that be awesome?
Sorry, I went off on a tangent. I guess I’ll never know how the other half lives, as they say. It’s okay. I’m happy-ish. Things could be worse, am I right?
Anyhoo, maybe you could give your brother a jingle? Suggest he do some serious crawling on his knees while begging.
I assume you’ve been in relationships in the past—you’ve probably pissed off a girlfriend or five. You’ll know what to do.
Just kidding about pissing off girlfriends. I’m sure you’re a swell boyfriend.
No matter. I’ll leave it in your capable hands.
Speaking of… how are you? I think about you down there arresting nude people a lot. Never a dull moment in Alec Marchesani’s life, eh?
All kidding aside, I hope you’re safe and sound in Killeen.
Take care. Write back if you have time.
Matilda.
P.S. I forgot to tell you… my aunt and uncle paid five thousand dollars for those dance lessons.
Put that in your pipe and smoke it.
I mean…
Ridiculous.
